


Cider and Donuts

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [197]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4397069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke takes a stand for charity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cider and Donuts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obi1mcgregor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obi1mcgregor/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Another charitable cause in Arcadia: [Leather Goods](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4388375)  
>   
> To Lisa, with thanks for her creamy suggestion.

"Spice up your life!"  
  
This afternoon could use some spicing up, Ian thought wryly, as he strode across the winter-matted grass of the Quad with his husband on a cloudy Wednesday towards the end of March.  
  
The spicy command, intentionally provocative, turned out to come from Deborah Lowenstein, a student Ian recognized from the 300-level course on the Algonquian Round Table he'd taught in the spring semester of 2011. She was obviously trying to drum up business, and it seemed to be working. A crowd began to gather around her booth, which was set up in the middle of the Quad, at the intersection of two popular short-cut paths. Ian couldn't read the sign in front of it yet, written in brown Magic Marker, but his curiosity started to kick in.  
  
Although Quinn and he were on their way to the library to do their research, Ian turned to his herven and said, "Hey, Quinn, have you got the time to find out what's going on over there?"  
  
Quinn nodded. "I'm sure the manuscripts will still be waiting patiently for us, lad," he said, his eyes crinkling in fine fashion.  
  
"They'll be there until the next ice age," Ian said, "even if it looks like we're still in the middle of one," he added with a chuckle, pointing to the sad clumps of snow clinging tenaciously to the ground in the shaded corners of the Quad. The last snowfall, so far, had taken place just a few days ago, and the shovelers had heaped the snow in towering piles, so it took forever to melt, despite the relatively mild temperatures that day.  
  
Changing their trajectory, they walked closer and stopped to read the sign -- Hurricane Sandy Charities. It turned out to be a hot cider and donut stand, which would donate all proceeds to Sandy victims. They had given both money and goods to Sandy relief already, including blankets (though by common consent keeping their blue and green quilt, along with their tartan comforter), canned goods, flashlights, lanterns, and clothing. So it was a given that they'd support this worthy cause.  
  
Apparently, Debby had learned more about Dorothy Parker's legendary quips from Ian's course than he had intended. The mulled cider was, of course, the spice she had been speaking of when she'd exhorted passersby to "Spice up your life!"  
  
Quinn and he exchanged telepathic looks -- Ian could tell his husband was holding in a groan at the pun, correctly discerning Ian's mischievous influence -- and decided to go for not only the cider, but also some donuts. They both needed an incentive to continue their research on William Somerset Maugham, as well as to slay the mighty piles of essays waiting for them when they came back to their office. Those stacks were currently preening on their desks, giving them Smaug-like smirks every time they dared to look in their direction after class. Sometimes, the only way to defeat the stacks was with snacks, although even Ian wouldn't voice this doggerel out loud, except perhaps with a snicker or two.  
  
After waiting on line for about seven minutes, they stepped forward to the counter, even hungrier now, after scenting cinnamon on the breeze.  
  
"Hi, Professors," Debby said in a cheerful chirp that Ian remembered well from her questions in class, and which mysteriously had seemed to increase during office hours.  
  
"Hello, Debby," said Ian. "It's nice to see that you're raising money for such a good cause."  
  
Debby beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor Prentice. My family lives down the Jersey shore -- in Brigantine -- so Sandy really did a number on us."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you okay now?" Ian said.  
  
Debby could hear the warmth in his voice and smiled in response. "Yes, everything's fine. We had some structural damage to the house, but my uncle's a carpenter and he and his crew fixed it for us. Our basement was flooded, so we had to replace our washing machine and dryer. My dad went out and bought a better sump pump, so we're more prepared now."  
  
Ian said, "Glad that things are getting back to normal."  
  
There were no prices listed on the sign; customers could pay whatever they wanted to donate. He and Quinn slipped a twenty apiece into the collection box.  
  
They looked over the variety of donuts. One with vanilla icing and rainbow sprinkles tempted Quinn, while Ian was seduced by the dark chocolate of a Boston Cream. Carrying insulated cups of cider along with their chosen donuts wrapped in napkins, they said their goodbyes to Debby and left the stand.  
  
Since it was actually in the 50s, rare for Luke at this time of year, Ian was considering the idea of eating outside. There were picnic tables and benches scattered over the lawn of the Quad that looked inviting, especially with the sun ignoring Yoda's advice and trying its best to come out. Fortunately, most of the customers were heading to the student center with their treats, so plenty of tables were still available outdoors.  
  
After one look at Quinn's face, currently angled upwards to catch a hardy ray, Ian decided to indulge his husband.  
  
It was a delight to relax outside after what had seemed to be an interminable winter. Spring had come technically, but they'd already weathered not one but two snowfalls since March 20th. Despite the unseasonably warm weather that afternoon, they were glad of their corduroy jackets because of a steady breeze flowing through the quadrangle.  
  
They set their snacks down on a table by Quinn's favorite spruce tree, and Ian gave his herven an appreciative glance, watching his antics in amusement as Quinn shimmied to get his long legs tucked under the attached bench. Ian briefly considered quipping that the tree looked all 'spruced' up today, but he thought better of it. That just might be a pun too far, or "pon farr," as he liked to think of it. Besides, Quinn's groans could be put to a much more intriguing use than responding to his alleged humor.  
  
"Ah, just the break we needed, laddie," said Quinn with satisfaction. He smiled at Ian across the table, his blue eyes sparkling in enjoyment.  
  
"Three in the afternoon definitely calls for a donut." Ian grinned. "This will help us get those essays graded." He bit into his Boston Cream with gusto. Quinn's calf brushed his own as his husband tried to get comfortable on the bench, and Ian's grin deepened. He loved these casual caresses, even if inadvertent, especially at school.  
  
Quinn said, "I hate to say it, but I think Debby's pun is good for business." He sipped his cider, savoring its warmth on this not-quite-spring-like day.  
  
They gazed at the line a few yards away from them, growing even longer since it was between class periods.  
  
"Well, it certainly got our attention," Ian replied, then did something guaranteed to get Quinn's attention, as well. He managed to decorate his lower lip with white cream, one of his favorite food teases.  
  
Quinn's gaze grew rapt, and Ian could tell he was making an effort to keep up with their conversation. "'Tis an effective advertisement," Quinn eventually said in a grudging tone, though his eyes told a different story.  
  
"Oh, ho! So you finally admit that puns have their uses, do you?" Ian teased him now with words, but at least he took pity on Quinn and licked the cream off in the least provocative way possible.  
  
"Especially when you get going, lad," Quinn said with an amiable lilt.  
  
Ian gave out an eloquent snort. "I'll take that as a compliment, since I've only been trying to corner the market on bad puns for years now."  
  
"That you have, laddie," said Quinn, affection overflowing in his voice. "When Case first mentioned that Dorothy Parker course, I knew he'd give it to you. Talk about a perfect fit."  
  
"Thanks, meleth (love)" Ian said. "I still can't believe that Evan tried to steal it right out from under me."  
  
Quinn let out a rich chuckle. "Well, he got his just deserts, ma herven. Remember, he ended up teaching 101 that semester." Quinn did his best not to smirk. "Seven sections of it!"  
  
An oblivious bluejay pre-empted Ian's less-than-gracious riposte -- about what Professor Peel could do with his eraser -- by starting to sing. They looked over at the oak tree to see him perched jauntily on a high branch, warbling away.  
  
Quinn smiled in contentment. "He's got the right idea, Ian -- just celebrating the simple joy of a lovely day in early spring."  
  
"And so are we," Ian said. He brushed his husband's calf with his own, in a deliberate echo of Quinn's inadvertent caress when they'd first sat down. Gabardine slid against gabardine in the most delicious way, exceeding their snack by far. He caught Quinn's eye with a wink, boosting the moment in a deliberate tease.  
  
He loved these subtle caresses all the more, now that secrecy had not been necessary for them in years. They still had their innate discretion, but it was not a disproportionate part of their lives anymore.  
  
Ian couldn't resist another pun as they finished their cider and donuts. "This was the epitome of a 'sidereal'* day, mo gradh (my love)."  
  
This time, Quinn let out his groan in full force, in competition with their bluejay audience. Both of them were showing off for their mates, after all. "I should've expected that, laddie, but somehow you still manage to surprise me."  
  
"Let's hope that never changes, Quinn," said Ian, with another wink for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> *Sidereal day -- [Define earth's solar and sidereal day from wiki.answers.com](http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Define_earth%27s_solar_and_sidereal_day) \-- "A sidereal day is the length of time between two successive passes of the fixed stars across the sky. That time period is 23:56:04, or one sidereal day."


End file.
